


Healing Wings

by lemoncellbros



Series: Macaw's Works [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depressed!Sam, Depression, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, Wingfic, Wings, loving!gabriel, protective!Dean, sad!sam, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 01:18:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15159242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoncellbros/pseuds/lemoncellbros
Summary: Sam Winchester has fallen into a deep depression that only the one who loves him most in this universe can help him out of. As it turns out, Gabriel is the only one that can save Sam.





	Healing Wings

Sam and Dean never really talked about Sam’s depression. They were hunters, they’ve seen so much that it was more a part of life than an ailment. Sam had been in a particularly bad place at this point, the weight of the world never seeming to leave his shoulders. Mom gone, Jack gone, hope lost, there just wasn’t anything left for him.

Sam hadn’t left his room in days. He just sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall, non feeling to anything. Dean would pound on the door randomly, to make sure he was alive, but he left him alone besides that. Dean knew there wasn’t anything he could do for his brother, not for lack of trying. He’d done whatever he could, trying to find new leads and trying to nerd out with his brother about things, he’d even tried to have a chick flick moment; but nothing worked.

So Dean left Sam, not truly knowing what he was doing within those concrete walls, what with the doors locked and the only answers he was receiving being throaty grunts in response to questions. Dean was beginning to become desperate; he’d seen his brother down before, sure, but it had never been this bad. 

Dean was beginning to feel more and more helpless. Whenever he’s down, he’s got Cas and Sam to help him get back on his feet, but he just didn’t know how to get through to Sam. Sam had no one, and it was becoming glaringly obvious to Dean that if he didn’t find someone for him soon, there may not be another chance.

To Sam, it felt as if everything he had ever stowed away had become weights tied to his ankles, forcing him to sink further and further down into his despair. Weeks had passed since he’d slept, visions of Lucifer’s true face haunting him day and night. A gaping hole had replaced those he’d held close, making him feel as if there was a cloud of smoke filling his head and heart.

He knew Dean wanted to help, don’t get him wrong he really did, it just wasn’t enough. To Sam, it felt as if there were nothing left for him in this world. So there he sat, alone, waiting for… anything. He didn’t eat, he rarely drank, and he never left his room. He was slowly withering away, and it seemed as if there was no one to stop him. 

It was getting way out of hand, and Dean was willing to do anything to help. He’d tried sending Cas in to work some mojo or something, but Cas returned to him with a weary look and sad shake of his head.

“Well?” Dean asked expectantly, “Did it work?”

Cas dropped into a chair at one of the tables within the bunker, looking much older than usual.

“There is nothing for me to do, Dean. He’s so broken, so deep within, that there is only one being that can lift him from these depths.”

Dean kneeled in front of Cas, his eyes so full of hope that it nearly broke Castiel’s heart. “Who, Cas?”

Castiel looked away, “The one who loves him most in this universe.”

“But, I already tried, Cas,” Dean said, voice so full of confusion.

There were no words for how heartbroken Castiel felt when he had to explain, “Dean, though you might believe you love him the most in this universe you are not.”

“But, that’s, it’s, impossible! There is nothing I love more!” Dean was shouting, tears of frustration springing to his eyes, “If it’s not me, then who?”

Castiel looked at his hands, folded neatly in his lap, “I believe you already know, Dean. But if you have forgotten, it is my brother. The Archangel Gabriel.”

Dean closed his eyes, resigned. Of course he knew, he’d known since the moment Gabriel had lain eyes on Sam. He just wished he didn’t have to call upon the Trickster, knowing full well the consequences. And yet, he motioned for Castiel to do as they both know he’d have to at some point. Cas nodded and poofed away.

 

On the 34th day of Sam Winchester’s lock-up, he had lost half of his weight, his hair had grown long and thin, and all happiness and hope he’d ever known had left the youngest Winchester. His door hadn’t been opened in so long the hinges creaked, the lock seemed rusted shut at this point. The bags under his eyes were so prominent that they were the defining feature of his face, his skin so pale and sunken that his previous bout with Lucifer and his insanity didn’t seem to touch this one.

It didn’t seem there was much time left for Sam, from his protruding ribs and aching heart. This was the Boy King, the same man that fought Lucifer and won, that saved the world. This same man, and he was dying at the hand of his own mind. 

Sat in the same spot he’d been for weeks, Sam Winchester stared at the same spot on the wall he had been for the past few months. Nothing had changed, except for the archangel standing in the corner of his room.

The moment Gabriel arrived in the locked room of Sam Winchester, it felt as if his grace had been ripped from his body and he was nothing but an empty shell at the sight of this man, the man he loved. Once so strong, the tall man seemed to be made of only skin and bone at this point. His previously thick and luscious hair was so thin and greasy, Gabriel imagined it would feel like pine straw if he touched it. 

His beautiful face was hollow, his cheekbones so prominent they could cut diamonds. His eyes that used to be so full of life, so beautiful, were so empty now. He now looked like the Horseman, Famine, he’d slain. 

“Gabriel,” Sam’s voice was so worn from misuse that it sounded like a rock being scraped on concrete.

“You know, you don’t have to be alone,” Gabriel forced his voice to be steady, but it felt as if he were falling apart alongside Sam.

Sam didn’t respond, just continued to stare straight ahead at the wall. Gabriel sighed shakily, moving to sit beside Sam. He could feel his suffering flow off of him in waves. Gabriel knew that he could do nothing, say nothing, that would bring Sam to the surface of the deep he’d plunged into. And so he did all he knew he could.

He manifested his wings, in all their beauty, and wrapped them safely around Sam and himself. Gabriel had always hid beneath his wings when the world was too much, when heaven threatened to destroy him or when pretending to be the trickster he was not made him feel as a lesser archangel.

The Archangel Gabriel had loved Sam Winchester since the day he’d laid eyes on him, and Sam Winchester had loved the Archangel Gabriel since the day he’d seen him. It was a simple fact of their existence, and it pained Gabe so that Sam hadn’t called for him since this had all began.

But Gabriel set his own pain aside, and allowed his love to flood the heart of the man he loved most in this universe, he let his wings shield him from the world and all that it had done to him. He let his grace sing for Sam’s soul, let it protect him from all the pain that was ruining him, day by day. Gabe knew he could never take the suffering from Sam, but he could at least share it.

And so Gabriel watched as the flesh regrew on Sam, as his locks became luminous once again. He watched as his sunken cheeks filled, and his ribs became less prominent. And he watched with the utmost joy as the life that had evaded them filled Sam’s eyes once again. 

He was not cured, and he was certainly not as he was before, but held close in the arms and wings of his angel, Sam Winchester once again, felt whole.


End file.
